Flesh of the Enemy
by SkoripiElda
Summary: Harry learns some disturbing facts about the Triwizard Tournament, and attempts to withdraw. This has unforeseen and unfortunate consequences when the Goblet attempts to collect it's price.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe. I am, in fact, simply playing here for a while.

Large portions of this chapter are lifted directly from the book by J.K., due to lack of divergence at this point. Further chapters will diverge more, please don't sue me!

\- I -

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — he indicated the door behind the staff table — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Harry sat back in his chair, excitedly looking around the Great Hall. The Hogwarts students seemed to be doing much the same as he was, craning their necks to attempt to spot their favoured champion candidate, or simply to ogle the ethereal girl from Beauxbatons. Those students were sat upright and alert, their eyes the only thing that betrayed their nervousness as they flickered around the room. The delegation from Durmstrang by contrast lounged comfortably, gazing at the flickering flames visible beyond the rim of the Goblet Of Fire.

His gaze came to rest on Hermione who was sat next to him, and unlike everyone else, was staring morosely at her lap. He nudged her, gently, with his elbow.

"What's wrong Hermione?" he asked, trying to keep his voice low in the near silence of the Hall.

"The last tournament, the one that got it banned..." She hefted a book out from under the table and placed it in front of him, pointing to a particular passage,

"...The Tournament With No Second Task. People die in these things Harry. I don't think I can watch someone I know go through ...that" she finished, pointing at an animated illustration of a graveyard. Harry watched with interest as the image reset, starting the three champions through the graveyard full of Ghouls again. It was over, mercifully, within thirty seconds and the Ghouls dragged their feast off the edge of the image. Harry suddenly wished he'd eaten a slightly lighter dinner.

He was distracted from responding when the light of the goblet changed to a bloody red. A second later, a tongue of flame leapt into the air, carrying with in a single piece of charred parchment.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

Ron yelled something, but Harry was distracted yet again by Hermione, who had started shaking. He turned back to her. "What? I'm sure there'll be better safety this time Hermione. All three ministries were working together, weren't they?" he said in what he thought was a reassuring manner. She flipped through the book with practised ease and pointed out a passage on the last few pages, before reading aloud in a quavering voice.

"Although each tournament was cited to have better security and safety measures than the last, almost every task could be guaranteed to go wrong in some manner. It has been theorised that the Goblet itself is somehow sentient in much the same way as the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts or the Left Wing of the Flammel Mansion, and uses its own brand of magic to make the tournament as exciting as possible for the spectators. This has manifested as the restraints for dangerous beasts snapping, magical safety equipment failing with no warning, or even seemingly unrelated outside sources."

Harry looked at the wooden Goblet sat on it's plinth for a few seconds, but all that came to mind was "Huh."

As through it had been waiting for his attention, which was not a pleasant thought after what he had just read, the Goblet immediately turned blood red once more and threw another piece of parchment into the air.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

The girl who so resembled a veela - "Delacour" got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and gracefully glided up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

Whispers erupted amongst the Hogwarts students. Them next. Harry was started to get worried. If what the book was saying was true, the champion would be in danger no matter what the ministry had decided. Unless each task revolved around Puffskeins. He turned back to Hermione, ignoring Ron as he gaped stupidly at the door that the French champion had vanished through.

"What else does the book say?"

Hermione flipped to the middle of the book, where there was a miniature index of the past tournaments, and showed him. He started reading about halfway down the list.

The Tournament With A Default Winner

The Tournament With No Champion

The Tournament With No Audience

The Tournament Of Souls

The Tournament That Started A War

The Tournament That-

His eyes widened as they skimmed down the names and dates. It seemed like EVERY tournament ended in disaster and the schools promising never to do it again, until a century or so later where they reinstated it. He started flipping through the book, stopping at random sections to read a sentence or two.

 _...only one survivor, so the cup was awarded ... large number of fatalities at the stands collapsed onto the Manticore ... Dementors managed to Kiss each champion and ten of … invaded by the Dark Lady Couronne D'Argent at the end of the second … Poisoning in an attempt to cheat … fatal stabbing by a deranged House Elf … mixing of Gillyweed and Muggle Weed caused the champion to drown … Muggle firearm discharged by a local revolutionary … devoured by a Ghoul Pack._

He looked up at Hermione in horror as the light flicked to red again. In the harsh light, he could see she was struggling to hold in tears. " _Every_ time?" he gaped. She nodded.

As Dumbledore snatched the parchment out of the air, Harry looked around at the Griffindor hopefuls. _Please, not someone I know._

"And the champion for Hogwarts... Is Cedric Diggory."

The table next to them exploded into cheers. Harry frowned. Cedric was courteous, polite. A paragon of Huffelpuff virtues. Harry grimaced, before looking back at the Goblet with, like everyone else in the hall, confusion.

The flames were getting agitated, tinting red, sending sparks into the air as though it was battling with itself. Harry felt a cold hand grip his stomach.

With a hiss, the Goblet erupted, sending a single spike of fire high, high into the air as crimson sparks cascaded to the floor. When the flames receded, there was a lone, badly burned scrap of parchment floating there. It seemed to float for a second, before beginning its slow decent. Dumbledore snatched it out of the air, almost automatically, and glanced at it, before doing a double take. He stared at it for several long seconds as the icy grip on Harry's stomach twisted painfully.

"Harry Potter."

Hermione let out a strangled sob and dropped the book, which landed with a thunk on the table, her hand still resting on a passage. Harry looked down and read a sentence that burned its way into his brain

 _In all three cases where a champion cheated their way into the tournament, they died before the final task._

Harry looked up. The teachers were staring at him. The students all had looks of confusion on their faces, slowly changing to anger as they realised what had happened.

Dumbledore turned to stare at him as Professor McGonagall whispered urgently into his ear. He nodded slowly.

"Harry Potter! Harry! Up here, if you please"

Hermione looked terrified. She was so pale she could have passed for one of Hogwarts' many ghosts, and she was shaking his head at him while Ron, on his other side, was staring blankly at him as though unable to process what had happened.

He looked up at Dumbledore again and slowly stood up. Dumbledore wouldn't let anything happen, right? He made his way carefully down the aisle, ignoring the whispers that sprang up as he passed. He paused for a second by Dumbledore, but the old wizard simply motioned him towards the door at the end of the staff table. Harry ducked his head and walked through.

The three champions were gathered around the fireplace. They looked over curiously as he entered. Fleur Delacour flicked her hair over her shoulder and smiled at him.

"What is it?" she said. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

Harry shook his head numbly, looking at the three of them again. Cedric Diggory cut an imposing figure, straight backed, and well defined in the firelight. Viktor Krum was a professional athlete, competing on a worldwide level and it showed. Fleur Delacour was looking down at him with confusion on her face as he still didn't speak. They all looked down at him. They were all much taller than him, even with Krum's slouched posture.

There was the sound of scurrying feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Harry by the arm and led him forwards, muttering to himself, stopping next to the three champions.

"Extraordinary! Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen . . . lady, may I introduce — incredible though it may seem — the _fourth_ Triwizard champion?"

Viktor Krum straitened up, frowning. Cedric looked nonplussed, looking between them. Fleur Delacour began to smile, as though at a joke, but Harry jerked his arm out of Bagman's grip.

"What? No! I'm not competing!"

It was Bagman's turn to look confused. "Harry, your name just came out of the Goblet of Fire. It's not a joke."

Harry's response was drowned by noise from both directions. Fleur Delacour started protesting, and the door to the room burst open once again, admitting Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Both foreign headteachers were vocally expressing their confusion and misgivings to Dumbledore. Harry tried to shrink into the background as it didn't seem the shouting match would end any time soon. He frowned at Fleur's comment. 'Little boy' seemed a little harsh. He had killed a basilisk just two years ago, after all, even if it wasn't common knowledge.

The argument continued for several more minutes until Harry felt the need to interrupt.

"Excuse me... Hello... HEY!" when no one seemed to notice, he pulled out his wand and cast a basic noisemaker, "Magna Voce!".

He may have pushed a small amount of his frustration into the spell. The issuing BANG caused dust to rain from the ceiling, but did succeed in getting everyone's attention. They were now all glaring at him, rather than each other.

"I have the solution right here. I have no intention of competing in this tournament! Something has gone wrong with literally every single year this thing has gone ahead. From what I was told just before my name came out of the Goblet, more people have died in this tournament than there have been tournaments! Hell, more _audience_ _members_ have died in this thing than there have been tournaments!"

There were a few moments of shocked silence before everyone started trying to speak at once. Dumbledore was closest, and loudest.

"Harry, are you attempting to _withdraw_ your entry?" The headmaster seemed about to continue, but Harry got there first.

"Yes," Harry had meant to go on to argue that he had never put his name in in the first place, that he had never seriously wanted to enter the tournament, that after what he had just read, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to _watch_ the tournament. Instead, after his one word answer the wand that was still held loosely in his hand flashed and Harry's world dissolved into pain, flashing lights, and the sounds of screaming. In the brief moments of clarity that plagued him while the pain racked his body, he wondered if the screams were his own.

\- I -

In muggle TV, when someone wakes up in a hospital, the first thing that happens in the heart monitor starts beeping. Then they groggily open their eyes at see the white ceiling and walls, look around at all the machines, and then pull out the IV drip while grimacing because they are manly men who don't need no healthcare.

Harry, on the other hand, woke with a start to a steady beeping, but after focusing his eyes he saw that the noise was being made by a glum looking witch two beds over. His head felt like it was stuffed with very heavy wool. He tried to move only to discover it really wasn't worth the effort. His neck was painfully stiff and his right hand felt like it was in an itchy glove, or wrapped in string. There were lines of stiffness and itches stretched up to almost his elbow. He tried to roll his head over to get a look, but he just succeeded in making himself feel ill so gave up and licked his lips instead.

"Where... where am I?" His voice was scratchy and dry. He knew he wasn't in the hospital wing, although wherever he was did have a similar aesthetic of cleanliness and the slight smell of healing potions.

A boisterous but friendly sounding voice sounded from the way Harry wasn't looking. He whipped his head around but regretted it almost immediately as the sudden movement made a wave of nausea roll over him.

"You're in St. Mungo's, my boy. Artefact Accidents ward. I tell you, there was some worry about whether you should be here or up on the fourth floor! Now that you're awake, let me give you a little check up. Drink this. And this. Whoops, not this. Drink this. Now lie still for a minute." The large body attached to the voice handed his four potions, snatching one back after a second. Harry felt his headache clear and his dry throat moisten and looked up.

The man, now Harry was looking at him, started casting all sorts of spells on him and making non-committal or pleased noises at the various flashes of light, coloured puffs of smoke or strange noises that emitted from his wand. After one final spell which let out a white flash with the noise of a cannon blast and released some dark green smoke that curled lazily in the air while giggling like an exceptionally small house elf, the man put his wand away and smiled down at Harry's prone form.

"Excellent, that all looks well within accepted boundaries, considering that this has never happened before! I'm sure you have some questions, so fire away, I have a few minutes."

Harry looked around again, trying to get his brain in gear. His thoughts seemed very sluggish.

"OK..." Harry took a deep breath and then got out "Where am I, why am I here, how long have I been here, who are you, why are you here, where are my glasses, why can I see you perfectly without my glasses and how did I get here?" in one long stream, before adding as an afterthought "And where is my wand?"

The man grinned at him, reassuringly.

"Well then, sport, I'll answer those in a slightly different order if you don't mind.

"As I said, you're in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, on the ground floor, Artefact Accidents, in the Gervaise Ward. I am your healer, or if you are more comfortable with the term, your doctor, healer Darrin. You've been here three days because of a rather unique magical backlash you were at the centre of. We really have no idea what caused it, or the effect it could be having on you right now! Your glasses are on the table, just here. As for why you can see without them, well magic is a strange and wonderful thing. It may be that you slowly start to need glasses again over the next week, it may be that you never need to pick up another pair!"

In Harry's opinion, the 'healer' was far too excited for not actually having any idea what was happening. Harry took his glasses and experimentally put them on. He blinked, still able to see just fine. He took them off and could read the writing on the headboard of the bed opposite from him. He filled this away for later and put his glasses back down. The healer continued with a broad, excited smile that showed very white teeth.

"We've contacted your school healer, and you should be back in her familiar care by the end of the day! I just hope that she'll accredit me in any research paper she publishes off of this, it would do worlds for my career!"

The healer then stood and walked briskly from the room without a backwards glance, leaving Harry gaping at his back.

"Hey, my wand! Where's my wand?"

Harry flopped back onto his pillow and scratched his nose. He froze, staring at his right arm. From the tips of his fingerers down to his elbow stretched a network of silvery scar tissue. Each scar seemed to lie over a vein, and was smooth as he ran unbelieving fingers over them. They itched, gently, persistently. It was uncomfortable. Harry tried to clench his fist, but the scars stretched and cramped painfully, the itching jumping up a notch to tiny needles digging into him. He rolled his wrist, and felt the skin all down his arm being pulled by the network of inflexible tissue. He could feel his pulse under the pulled taut scars as the skin around them twitched.

Harry stayed, staring at his scars, for what seemed like hours, until a familiar mediwitch arrived to cart him back through the floo to Hogwarts.

\- I -

End notes

So, here's something that bubbled from my head one night. Like all my stuff, I'll work on it when I feel like it, so chapters may take a long time to come out, or may (As highly unlikely as it may be) be out within a week.

I will put a second chapter of this out, if for the very least to explain what happened, and where Harry's wand has gone.

If you liked it, a review telling me what you liked is always appreciated. If you didn't, taking a moment to help me improve will be good for your everlasting soul.

Had to remove the link to the reference image of the veins in an arm as it wouldn't display,

And after a very, very long time, I've gone through this with some minor edits for ease of reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I will attempt to make my fanfiction fulfil all four rules of a transformative work, thus minimising the risk of me being sued. Just in case, I'd like to point out how all lawyers and especially those that work in the interests of the Harry Potter universe and copyright holders are lovely, lovely people who have far better things to do with their time than take my money. And I'm sure that the owners of Pokémon, The Inheritance Cycle and Exalted don't care too much.

\- II -

"Harry!"

The brunette missile streaked across the hospital ward and smacked into him with a solid thud, knocking the wind from his lungs, before starting to fire off questions faster than Harry could comprehend.

"Are you still hurt? Why aren't you wearing your glasses? Where's your wand? What was St. Mungo's like? Why have you been gone for three days? Why won't anyone tell me what's going on? WHY are you in the TOURNAMNET? Did you put your name in the Goblet? No no, of course you didn't... Who put your name in the Goblet? Are you OK? Are..."

Harry tuned her out and awkwardly patted her on the back. After almost a minute, when Hermione paused to draw a breath, Harry jumped in.

"Where's Ron?"

Hermione's next tide of questions tailed off into a high pitched whine as she stopped mid sound. She looked sadly at the door, then back at Harry.

"He... He's uh... Well... Not everyone believed Professor Dumbledore when he told us that you'd been hurt by the Goblet for refusing to compete. Personally, I think he's wrong because the Goblet would have just stripped you of your magic, not bothered to actually harm you. In fact, in eighteen twenty th-"

Harry held up his left hand, his right still hidden under the blankets, and said "Ron?"

Hermione blinked nervously and nodded, her voice slowly getting quieter and faster. "Right. Yes. Some people think the Goblet was punishing you for chhtnnng rwyntoda tnment..."

"Say that again," Harry whispered, "So that I can understand you."

"For.. For cheating your way into the tournament. Ron thinks you cheated into the tournament. And has spent the last three days complaining. About you. And how you always get everything. He didn't want to come to see you when we were told you were back from St Mungo's".

Harry let his head flop back onto his pillows with a sigh. "Great. Wonderful. Who _does_ believe Professor Dumbledore's account?"

Hermione fidgeted nervously, and held up her hand, ticking off people on her fingers.

"Well, there's me, obviously. Hagrid. Professor McGonnagal. And.. um... well. Huffelpuff think you're stealing Diggory's glory, so they kinda hate you. Slytherin have always hated you. Ravenclaw looked at the evidence, and concluded that you did it, so hate you because you figured out how to do it and they didn't. And Gryfindor has had Ron spewing vitriol for the last three days pretty much unimpeded, along with an unhealthy dose of standard 'someone else is doing something I'm not' jealousy. So most of them kinda hate you too. Beaxbaton's champion seems to be more sorry for you than anything else, but their headmistress isn't happy, so they... they kinda hate you as well. And Durmstrang doesn't seem to really care, but are mostly of the opinion that you'll die in the first task so they needn't worry about you over much." She seemed to shrink back inside of herself. "Sorry."

Harry gave her a small smile. "S'not your fault. Thanks for believing that I didn't do it."

Hermione smiled back, and Harry ran his hands through his hair, thinking. His thought were derailed by Hermione's startled gasp, however.

"Harry! What happened to your hand?"

She took Harry's arm carefully and started examining it closely, seemingly forgetting about the boy it was attached to.

"I have no idea. I can't remember what happened at all. I woke up in St Mungo's about three hours ago, and was told in short that they didn't know what had happened. I can see without my glasses now, but they say that might fade away over time."

Hermione let his hand drop, and had a small smile on her face.

"What?"

Hermione couldn't contain a small bout of giggles as she gestured to Harry's arm and his forehead. "You know how the Wizarding World feels about magic scars... I can't wait to see what nickname this one gets you!"

Harry paled and Hermione started listing suggestions, much happier than she had been.

"The-Boy-Who-Competed... The-Boy-Who-Beat-Dumbledore's-Age-Line, even though you didn't... The-Boy-Who-Screams-Really-REALLY-Loudly..."

Harry looked up at that one, "Wait, what?"

"Oh," Hermione's smile disappeared again, "Whatever happened when everyone went into the champion room caused a really bright flash of light. It was blinding to anyone even looking at the closed door, and then you started screaming and you wouldn't stop. You just got louder and louder. Professor Flitwick silenced the door but the charm wouldn't hold. They tried stunning you, giving you potions... It was horrible. Non of us know what happened in there."

Harry stared at his scared arm.

 _I really don't want another thing for people to stare at. It's not like they'll need much reason this year anyway, what with that whole episode._

He continued to stare morosely at his arm, wondering how he was going to hide the scars. The itching, which had all but vanished since his return to Hogwarts, sprang up again, and he clenched his fist in frustration, hating the scars that marred him and the sheep of the wizarding world who pointed and whispered when they thought he wouldn't see

"Perhaps," came a new voice, "I can be of some assistance there."

They both turned to see Professor Dumbledore stood nearby.

"Professor," asked Harry, "You know what happened?"

"I believe I do Harry. However," And here the headmaster's twinkling eyes shifted to Hermione, "Perhaps it would be best if Ms Granger here waits outside for a little while. If you choose to fill her in afterwards, that is your prerogative but you may wish to keep the knowledge to yourself."

Hermione nodded, and got up to leave, but Harry stopped her.

"Headmaster, Hermione is one of maybe four people in the school, including the staff, that doesn't hate me right now, I _will_ be telling her whatever you tell me. And it would probably be for the best that she hears it first hand rather than through me."

Dumbledore inclined his head, and Hermione sat back down, looking between Harry and the Headmaster worriedly.

"So what happened, professor?"

"Harry, your wand had a phoenix tail feather core, did it not? It is a little known fact that Phoenix cored wands, while eventually more powerful than either Unicorn or Dragon cored varieties, are often shunned by wand makers due to the fact that some of the Phoenix's personality will carry into the wand. The wand's will show a surprising amount of initiative, sometimes acting independently of their owner's wishes. Despite this having saved the lives of numerous powerful mages throughout history, many common wizards and witches dislike having a wand that will sometimes do things of it's own volition. Now, when you attempted to withdraw from the tournament,"

Harry noticed both the past tense used when referring to his wand, and the use of 'attempted', and was starting to get worried.

"You caused the Goblet to attempt to strip the magic from your body, as is the accepted punishment for breaking a magical oath. As the healers have told me, you most certainly did _not_ have the magic removed from you. As far as I can tell," And here Dumbledore's eyes flicked to Hermione again, "This is due to a … minor prophesy made sometime before your birth. You don't need to know the details, most of it passed long ago, but effectively a magical link was forged between you and another individual. Something could not happen to one of your magics without it effecting the other."

Harry was already a little lost in this explanation, but Hermione was nodding along so Harry nodded to the headmaster to continue, resolving to ask Hermione for the abridged version once the headmaster had left.

"This other individual had undergone a number of rituals to prevent his magic being stripped, and his rituals and the Goblet battled for dominance. This caused a large amount of magical fallout that likely would have killed you, as the battleground of choice for this magical war was located somewhere inside your soul. Your wand saved you, absorbing the fallout itself, and destroying itself in the process. When it... exploded, most of it was buried into your body, causing the scars I was told you have. However, those seem to be missing."

Harry and Hermione both glanced at Harry's arm, and gaped at it. The skin was smooth and unmarked, without a trace of the scars that they had both seen there and even the itching was almost gone. Dumbledore continued, seeming to not notice their reaction.

"The explosion also knocked you out via magical backlash for the last three days. The other champions suffered minor injuries as well, but those have since been healed."

Hermione looked at the headmaster. "So what happens now? Harry backed out of the tournament right?"

"Alas," said the headmaster, his twinkle slowing for a few seconds, "I am afraid not. Without the price being paid, namely Harry's magical core, the contract was not voided. And," Here he held up a hand to forestall Hermione's objections, "If Harry were to attempt to leave again, without his wand to save him, he will die. The Goblet and the Prophesy will battle, and Harry will lose. Harry truly has no choice in the matter. The paper used was torn from one of his potions essays. Magically speaking, it was a piece of paper that had the intent of Harry claiming ownership of that piece of paper. All that is needed to enter a contract like the Goblet.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I have arranged for you to have the rest of the week off lessons to recuperate, and this weekend Hagrid will be taking you to Ollivanders to buy a new wand. Due to the clauses of the Goblet, no teacher can give you direct help... However we will all do our best to make this as safe for you as possible. Good day."

And with that, the headmaster swept from the room, purple robes swirling.

\- II -

"You a'right there eh 'Arry?"

Harry smiled at his first contact within the magical world as he scarfed down the last of his breakfast and stood up. He noticed that many of the Durmstrang students still stared a little at Hagrid as he passed.

"Hello Hagrid, how have you been?"

"Ah, can't complain. Couple a firs' years tried to find out what was so 'forbidden' about tha forest. Fang scared 'em back to the castle afore they made it too far. No harm no foul I say."

Harry grinned, having still been in the hospital wing when two sobbing first years had been admitted for calming droughts and a check up. They'd been crying about "Huge wolves" and how they'd had to run for their lives. It was funnier knowing they'd never been in danger.

"Dumbledore has asked me to take you to Diagon Alley today, get you a new wand after... well, after Halloween an' all. If you're finished eatin', I reckon leavin' now would be our best bet, afore the alley gets too busy."

Harry nodded, and followed Hagrid out of the great hall, ignoring the assorted whispers, stares and glares of the student body as he passed. He felt a slight pang when he saw Ron who was staring resolutely at his huge plate of food, but walked past without a backwards glance. The pair made their way down to Hogsmeade in companionable silence, where Hagrid produced a portkey. It was a small wooden rowing boat, with two figures in it. One of the figures was huge and easily dwarfed the tiny other. The whole thing was carved from a single piece of wood.

"Hagrid, is that us?"

"Eh? Oh, yeah. I'm a decent whittle, and those were good times. Seein' you, usin' magic. Good times." Hagrid's voice was especially gruff as he clapped harry on the shoulder, nearly sending him to his knees.

"Lot's to do, eh 'Arry? Best get a move on."

The portkey ride took much longer than Harry had anticipated, and he felt mildly ill as they slammed into place just outside the Leaky Cauldron. Hagrid, on the other hand, looked positively green. Harry heard him muttering under his breath "Worse than Goblin carts. Worse, I say..."

After a minute to collect themselves, they entered the establishment. Harry couldn't help the wave of nostalgia. True, he was much larger than the first time he'd passed through here, but Hagrid still made him feel tiny in comparison. They walked through the pub without incident, and Hagrid produced his umbrella from one of the pockets of his massive overcoat, tapping the right brick to reveal the entryway to Diagon Alley.

"Righ', Gringotts first. Yer firs' wand is partly paid for by the ministry. Second one's going ta cost yer a bit more I'm afraid. Then Ollivanders, then I think we can stop off at Fortescue's for a break. Dumbledore gave us the whole day off, don't need to be back in Hogwarts till jus' afore curfew, so if there's any other shopping you need, we can get that done too."

The two of them wandered up the street towards Gringotts, mostly in silence. Hagrid nodded at the Goblin guards, and Harry grinned at the poem etched on the inner doors. They walked to an open Goblin teller without incident, and Harry produced his vault key on request. The problems only started after the hair raising cart ride, when they slid to a stop outside the Potter family vault.

As soon as Harry stepped off the cart after Hagrid and the Goblin who had been introduced as Grindaxe, there was a flash of red light, and an echoing, blaring noise came from the stones he was stood on. Harry froze, unsure of what was happening. Grindaxe gasped and turned to stare at him, long fingered hand flicking into the depths of his armour, returning with a wicked looking curved dagger.

"THIEF!" he screeched, before leaping at Harry, wide mouth bared in a snarl, exposing a great many pointed teeth. The dagger flashed and twirled as the Goblin slashed, but Hagrid had moved with surprising grace and speed, catching the Goblin mid air and hoisting him aloft by the back of his armoured tunic. Hagrid frowned, apparently unconcerned with the knife wielding maniac that continued to stab and slash at Harry even as he was dangled before Hagrid's unsmiling visage.

"Wha's all this then? What you on about, 'thief'?"

"He bears the Potter key, but his magic isn't recorded, it's an imposter, come to steal from the vaults!"

Hagrid looked confused. "He's not a thief. Tha's Harry Potter. He's come straight 'ere from Hogwarts."

The Goblin's slashing slowed to a more sedate pace, although this may have just been that the creature's arm was getting tired, as it replied. "Be that as it may, a magical signature does not change lightly. That person," He Grindaxe gestured with his left hand at harry, while his right continued to jab the knife experimentally at his throat, "is not the same as the Harry Potter that you yourself brought in front of us years ago. Ergo, a THIEF!" and here the Goblin made another lunge at Harry. Hagrid lifted him higher.

"Look," the huge man said exasperatedly, "Le's just go back to the lobby, I can floo Dumbledore, and he can straighten this all out. This is all just one big misun'erstanding."

Hagrid then gently deposited the Goblin back on the ground, something Harry thought was a stupid idea, especially when the Goblin didn't put his knife away.

Despite all Goblin's insistence that the cart's were _'one speed only'_ , the ride up seemed to take much less time than the ride down. The lobby, when they entered it, was devoid of wizards. However there was a large contingent of well armoured Goblins, three Forest Trolls and one young Cerberus on three leashes. Hagrid was led away from Harry, towards a huge fireplace. Harry was moved to stand in the middle of the various armoured guards. They all watched as Hagrid cheerfully walked to the fireplace, pausing only briefly to coo at the Cerberus, who didn't seem to know how to react. The left most of the head growled, the middle head sniffed Hagrid's coat warily and then sneezed, and the right most head bent down and started cleaning it's Gringotts jewels.

Hagrid grabbed a pinch of powder from a pot presented to him and threw it into the fire, calling out "Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts!" as soon as the flames turned green. He walked through without a backwards glance. Harry looked around at the unfriendly faces staring at him. After a few seconds of painful silence, he tried to break the ice.

"So. Uh. Nice armour.". The Goblin he addressed stared at him with undisguised malice. After a few seconds, it leaned forwards and hissed, although it's voice filled the otherwise silent room.

"Once we prove you're a thief... I'm going to _personally_ feed your Hgrggkadkhhaad to the Cerberus. One to each head."

The Goblin then leaned back, a self-satisfied smirk on its face. Harry had no idea what his Hgrggkadkhhaad were. Nor, he was pretty sure, did he want to know. There were a few mutterings in Gobbledegook as the floo powder ran out, turning the fire back to orange. The Goblin who had threatened him turned and smiled dangerously. The Goblin next to him looked thoughtful for a few seconds, then said something to the first Goblin.

"Hrgrakcha... Grk krragh Mnkgaah btkraak ztra Hgrggkadkhhaad." *

The first turned to look back at the second, an incredulous expression on its face.

" _ztra_? Gtta gom?" **

The second one nodded seriously. "Grka kosgt kkrk grkba. Kda bvkaad." ***

The first Goblin turned back to Harry, and shook its head. "I apologise, whoever you are. I have just been informed that humans only have _two_ Hgrggkadkhhaad. The last head will have to be fed your Hgrkkgabkgvva."

Harry turned back to the fireplace and silently willed it to turn green. His prayers were answered after another five tense, silent minutes. Out of the emerald flames stepped Hagrid's vast form, and then the tall, thin body of the headmaster. Dumbledore put his wand to his throat, muttered a spell, and then started firing off rapid Gobbledegook, wincing at every particularly harsh sound that tore at his throat. A Goblin who looked older than the rest fired back, and the two started shouting at each other, volume slowly raising as they walked towards each other until they were bellowing into each other's faces, long noses almost touching.

One last bellow of "Grk llkgk krgg krgga Hgrggkadkhhaad!" from Dumbledore, and everyone seemed to relax. Dumbledore pulled his wand away from his throat and said, in a slightly raw sounding voice, "On my magic, so I swear that this is Harry Potter." He then fired a small light spell into the air, proving he still had his magic and the Goblins started filing away. The Goblin who had threatened Harry waved cheerily at him as he walked off. It left Harry feeling a little uncomfortable, but Dumbledore beamed at him.

"Making friends with a Goblin Harry? How commendable, not many wizards make the effort!". His voice still sounded raw and scratchy.

"Uh no sir. He just threatened me when Hagrid was getting you."

"That's what I said my boy. Now I really must be off. Have a good day, and remember, classes start for you on Monday." And with that, Dumbledore walked briskly back through the flames.

Grindaxe walked over to them, still frowning.

"To your vault then... Mr. Potter?"

Hagrid turned green pre-emptively, and told Harry that he would wait outside.

\- II -

Ollivanders was just the same as Harry remembered it as he pushed open the door: dusty, ill lit and seemingly deserted. He walked into the middle of the room and was about to call for Ollivander when the man in question walked in from the back room, carrying a stack of wand boxes.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," he said, depositing the large stack on the counter top, "Eleven inches, Holly and Phoenix feather, nice and... supple, correct? You were a difficult one, yes, very difficult. I have retrieved those wands I think are most likely to accept you, yet I expect that this may take a while. Please," He gestured at the stack, "Take one."

Harry reached for the stack, and took to top most box, sliding out the wand.

"Eleven inches, like your old wand. Unicorn hair and ash wood. Surprisingly ridged. Good for jinxes, shields and self defence."

Harry took the wand, and Ollivander moved to take it back, but Harry had already slid it back into the box. There was no connection, non at all. It was the same as any stick he could have picked up in a park. He reached for the next wand.

"A practical walnut wand. In length, it is just a bit over seven and one-half inches long. This wand's core is Phoenix tail feather. Springy. Good for wards, both casting and breaking"

Harry took the wand, and put it back.

"A plain willow wand. The length is ten and three quarters inches long. The core consists of a few hairs from a Unicorn mane. Oddly limp, in the wrong hands. Good for... No? OK. This, this one is a thick dogwood wand. It is eleven and three quarters inches long. This wand's core is Dragon heart string, from a Peruvian Vipertooth. It's- no? All right, I was expecting this. Next. This beauty is a rather oddly-formed rosewood wand from a tree I found in my travels of a magical enclave. It is just a bit over ten and one-quarter inches and- OK, next, a plain birch wand. The length is, OK then another one, perhaps..."

Harry waved wand after wand. This wasn't like his first trip, where some wands had reacted violently, and some had ignored him. This was like they weren't wands at all, like they were simply dead. He slowly made his way through the entire stack, Ollivander's descriptions slowly getting shorter and shorter, until he was simply grunting "Rosewood. Ivy. Oak. Willow." and then gave up on those too. Harry placed the last wand in the discard pile with a sigh and a shake of his head. Ollivander looked lightly pained.

"Well, no matter. It seems none of the supreme cores are willing, but I do have a few of my earlier experiments around the back. Let me go and fetch those."

The wizened wand maker disappeared for a few minutes, and Harry could hear bangs and grunts from a back room. Ollivander returned with a small crate, placing it on the counter and waving his own wand dismissively to send the rejected wands back to their places on the shelves.

"Right then Mr. Potter. A bloodwood wand. The length is ten and one-quarter inches long. The core consists of hippocampus mane. I made this when studying in Greece." Harry took it, waved it half heartedly and put it back. A wand of Hornbeam and Kraken beak, one of Alder and Kelpie hair, one of dried vine and Manticore spines, and one truly evil looking Ebony and Dementor cloak all followed it. There was no connection to any of them. Ollivander looked despairing, and then stopped. He glanced at Harry and swept the crate away, and vanished into the back. He returned holding a single box. From it he produced a wand longer than Harry's Holly wand, a light gold in colour. There were twelve glittering gems set into the hilt, and five metal wires had been seared into the wood, wrapping in spirals up to the point, where they held a small white stone.

"And now, Mr. Potter. This. I didn't think I would ever find the one to wield it. Thirteen inches. The wand wood was once the handle of a sword that helped carve the largest magical empire even known. The wood was said to have been a given gift from Yygdrasil herself. Don't ask where I got it, for I won't tell. The core is three unicorn tail hairs, one from each of the alphas of the largest herds of the world. These hairs are braided together, then wrapped around three dragon heart strings. The first string is from a Ukrainian Ironbelly, an individual who is reportedly the largest ever recorded, weighing in at a monstrous ten tons, over half the weight again of a standard Ironbelly. The second is from a Hungarian Horntail, one named 'Kar Surimbesh', or The Deathwing by the citizens of Atlantis, shortly after it slaughtered its way through over forty percent of their population, directly contributing to the collapse of their civilisation. The last string is from an extinct species called the Polynesian Infernox. This one in particular, the last and oldest of its kind, followed the Polynesian settlers who struck out into the sea. When they were close to death, no land in sight, it sacrificed itself by ploughing into the earth beneath the sea, cracking the crust and causing a new volcano to rise from the ocean waves, forming the islands of Hawaii. Finally, these are wrapped around a single Phoenix tail feather from the patriarch of the species, Moltres, the Everburning. These seven cores have been uniquely fused into a single wandcore.

"The wires are shards of Orichalcum, magical gold filled with light and fire; Soulsteel, souls trapped and forged in the underworld by the ancient Deathlords; Starmetal, reportedly pieces of fallen gods; Moonsiver, the collected essence of Luna; and Magical Jade, the great stabilizer. The twelve gems were taken from the Belt of Beloth the Wise, also known as the Belt of Twelve Stars, lost for centuries prior. The bone tip is the finger bone of the last Avatar to walk the earth."

Ollivander's eyebrows rose higher and higher as Harry reached for the wand. He picked it up, and gave it a wave. He sighed, shook his head, and put it back down. Ollivander almost burst into tears.

"Mr. Potter. Please. Can you think of anything, ANYTHING, that would be blocking your magical connection with these wands?"

Harry thought for a second. His hand itched. He brought it up before his eyes, and thought about the scars. Before his eyes, they pushed their way up and out of his skin, itching crazily for a few seconds as they writhed. He reached for the wand again.

\- II -

Dumbledore met them as they returned to the Hogwarts gates.

"Well, how was your day after the indecent at Gringotts? How is your new wand?"

Harry frowned, but it was Hagrid that spoke up.

"'E didn't get one, Professor" As Dumbledore's eyebrows rose, Hagrid continued. "Damdest thin'. I heard the explosion from the Cauldron. Ollivander threw him out for breakin' his 'Magnum opus'. Said no wand was gonna serve him if he got tha' reaction. No stave, ring nor necklace neither."

Harry spoke up. "He told me that the reaction was like when you try and channel magic though incompatible duel core wands. He told me to tell you that he thinks that I've become a magical focus."

Dumbledore's eyebrows had long since vanished into his hairline.

"Well, Harry, that is most peculiar. If you could, would you be able to attempt to cast a _Lumos_ charm for me? Just wave your arm and say the words."

Harry did so, but nothing happened. He looked downcast, but then brightened. After a seconds concentration, the scars on his arm rippled into view, and he tried again.

"Lumos!"

There was an intense feeling of itchiness that travelled down the scars and coalesced on his palm, before vanishing. A ball of magical light appeared in Harry's hand. He looked at it for a few seconds, before squeezing it. The light reflected oddly on his scars

"It's squishy."

He bounced it a little without letting go, and then held it on his palm.

"Excellent, although an unusual manifestation. Dispel it, please."

Harry nodded, and said firmly "Nox!"

The light stayed where it was. Harry tried again, and nothing happened.

"How odd. Hold it still please, Harry."

The headmaster cast a spell on his glasses, and peered closely at the ball in Harry's hand.

"Try throwing it please Harry. At me, if you would."

Harry shrugged, and thrust his hand out at Dumbledore. The light detached and flew towards the wizened professor. It impacted on him, and then floated out a foot from the impact zone, still glowing. Dumbledore waved his wand through it, finding no resistance.

"How very odd. This spell barely resembles a Lumos charm at all. _Finite_."

The light flared for a second, but Dumbledore poured more magic into his wand and the hovering light vanished with a pop.

"How very, very odd. Harry, I will alert your professors, but please do return to classes on Monday. As a champion, you do not technically need to attend, but learning more will never hurt you. I will try and clear a time to do a little more experimentation with you in a few days. You may also want to talk to Filius abut practising with him. As an accomplished dueller and Charms Master, he will find this fascinating! Now, you can catch the end of dinner if you hurry. Off you trot."

Harry took the dismissal for what it was, and walked up to the castle, leaving the headmaster to exchange a few words with Hagrid.

The noise in the Great Hall dropped sharply as he walked in, and then picked up again with angry sounding whispers. He sighed, and walked along the Gryfindor table until he found Hermione. She was sat nearly at the very end of the table, saving the seat between her and the empty space before the staff table. He smiled at her as he sat, thankful that he didn't have to deal with everyone else.

"Oh look, Potter's back from his super special day out! Isn't enough to cheat into the tournament, he needs to get the teacher's special treatment too!" Ron's voice was loud enough to carry a full third of the way down the table. Everyone between the two quieted, waiting for Harry's response. Harry just started at his plate, no longer very hungry.

"Of course, as soon as he's found out, he has no excuse does he? To think I used to _like_ that tosser."

Harry ground his teeth.

"Twit can't even stand up and admit his worthlessness. Little freak."

Hermione gasped, and reached for his arm. She knew more than Ron did about Harry's early life. Her placating grasp was too slow, however. Harry stood and glared down the table at the redhead who still wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Ron, I swear one more word and I'm going to feed you your own Hgrggkadkhhaad."

Dumbledore, who had just arrived and picked up his goblet, choked on his drink.

\- I -

So, chapter two. I'm kinda surprised how easy this one was to write. We found out a little more about Harry and his magical hand, although there is still more to come. I have one more scene in mind, and after that I'll be flying by the seat of my pants, so bear with me.

As always, reviews are the one thing that makes being a writer who publishes on here better than a writer who doesn't. If you enjoy the story, a moment of your time is the biggest gift you can give. Reviews keep me warm at night, ever since they turned off my heating...

*- "Rippick... I think Humans only have two Hgrggkadkhhaad."

**- " _Two_? Not three?"

***- "My uncle told me. He counted."

As the previous chapter, I recently went through this to make it easier to read, and remove a few of the mistakes.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own this. Pretty much everything I own can be packed into a large travel case, and I'd like to see you try and fit the entire Harry Potter universe in there!

\- III -

Harry checked the clock on the wall again.

3:37am

He sighed, and then winced as his hand rubbed up against the suddenly rough feeling linens of his bed. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were large, dark bags sitting heavily under them. He pulled out his arm and glared at it in the dim light.

 _Three days_. Harry thought, viciously. _Three days and you haven't stopped this infernal itching for longer than a minute._

It wasn't helped, Harry reflected, that he had not had a single practical lesson to take his frustrations out on so far. Even his viscous over pruning of the Flutterbush in Herbology hadn't left him feeling much better. He scratched his lightning bolt scar, absently feeling his fingers tingle unpleasantly.

As much as he wanted to be able to let out his sleep deprived anger, Harry wasn't looking forward to his lessons today with much joy. He didn't want to have to reveal his new scars if he could get away with it, and every time he had tried to cast a spell while keeping them hidden the spell had failed.

 _The scars_

Harry was suddenly worried. What if the constant itching was a sign that something was wrong with them? He hated looking at them, and had been all too happy to simply hide them now that he knew he could. He hadn't even considered that it might be bad for them, or him.

He focused, and slowly the scars rippled up from beneath his skin. He clenched his fist, feeling them pull on each other, then looked again. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with them, but he was hardly a certified mediwizard. The itching did stop, however. The scars seemed to almost glow silver in the darkness.

Satisfied for now Harry willed the scars away, but immediately they started itching again. Harry glared at his arm again, before grumbling to himself. He could always hide them again tomorrow.

Letting the scars out once more Harry finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

Far too early, the sunlight that streamed through the windows hit Harry in the face. He groaned silently and rolled over, prepared to go back to sleep. After a second, Harry's eyes slowly blinked open, and he rolled again. Then he coughed, experimentally. Silence. He sat up jerkily and grabbed his alarm clock.

10:05

His brow furrowed for a second before he grabbed his new class schedule. He was late for charms. He threw on a set of robes and was sprinting out of the Fat Lady's Portrait in record time, his shouted apologies to the upper year student he had nearly run into still coming out silent. It didn't occur to Harry until he was two floors down that he should probably visit the hospital wing first.

\- III -

Professor Flitwick looked up as Harry pushed the door open.

"You're late, Harry. By quite a margin in fact." He didn't sound particularly angry, more a little confused and worried. Professor Flitwick never sounded angry, although that could have just been his high pitched voice.

"Sorry Professor. I was hit by a Silencing Charm this morning by... someone. I didn't trust myself to counter it correctly."

"Ah yes, wordless casting is quite the challenge, especially with your latest development," He squeaked out, "Well, we're continuing our work on the Summoning Charm this lesson. You weren't here for our first lesson, so if you'll come over here we'll work on getting you up to speed."

He beckoned Harry to the back corner of the classroom, where there was a small stack of cushions lying on a table.

"Now, first things first. May I examine your hand please?"

Harry rolled back the sleeve of his robe and presented his arm to the diminutive teacher, with the scars still hidden. Professor Flitwick pulled out his wand and waved it in a complex, tight pattern, causing a blue glow to roll up Harry's arm. Harry grimaced as a fresh wave of itching, verging on the painful erupted wherever the light touched. The professor noticed his discomfort and immediately cancelled the spell.

"Harry? Is everything all right?"

Harry flexed his fingers a few times as the itching abated before answering. "It's nothing professor. It just itches a lot."

Flitwick nodded thoughtfully and charmed a nearby quill with a wave of his wand. The quill floated over to a stack of parchment and started scribbling

"Fascinating. Would you mind if I were to try some other detection spells Harry?" the diminutive professor squeaked.

Harry shrugged, holding his hand out again. After several more flashes of light ranging from blue to a neon orange, each of which resulted in an especially unpleasant itching, Professor Flitwick stopped and 'hmm'd to himself, looking slightly confused

"Very well then. Now, the headmaster mentioned something about a Lumos charm?"

Harry nodded and, remembering the previous attempt, willed his scars to the surface. He raised his hand, but the charms teacher stopped him.

"What are these Harry?"

Harry looked down, slightly ashamed of his latest disfigurement, willing them away again. "They're all that are left of my wand, professor. I can make them disappear, but if I want to cast with them I need them to be visible."

"Fascinating! I may need to bring Minn- I mean, professor McGonnagal in on this, Harry. That was no invisibility charm you cast on that arm of yours. Now, may I examine your arm with the scars out? I will just use a single spell to save you some discomfort. You said that the pastel green was the least painful?"

At Harry's nod, and the reappearance of the scars, Flitwick recast the identification charm at Harry's arm. To Harry's surprise, his arm did not start to itch. His surprise must have shown, because his charms teacher pulled the spell and asked him what was wrong.

"Nothing, that time. Nothing at all, not even a little itch." Harry was decidedly confused. Flitwick seems to share this state, but he put his wand away and smiled up at Harry.

"Well, I think that is a puzzle for another time. For now, a Lumos?"

"Yes professor. Lumos!". A haze of itching washed down Harry's scars, culminating in his palm and forming the same squishy ball as when Dumbledore had asked him to cast the spell. It provided a fair bit of light from between his fingers, which Harry thought was somewhat odd. He couldn't remember that happening last time, it had only started to glow after striking the headmaster.

"And now, I believe you throw it? To me please Harry."

Harry used the same pushing motion he had used with Dumbledore, but this time his spell seemed, somehow, to be affected by gravity. It dropped gently from his hand and splashed against the floor. They both looked at the apparent puddle of brightly glowing liquid between them. Professor Flitwick prodded at it with an animated broom handle, which came away coated in the same golden glow.

"How very... odd. This is unlike any spell I have ever seem before, nor have I ever heard of a spell being affected by gravity in this way. Perhaps you could dispel it for now?"

Harry nodded, despite how it had failed last time, and pointed at the glowing liquid on the floor.

"Nox!" Another wave of itches pulsed down from Harry's elbow and raced to his fingertips, where a number of fat, black sparks leapt forward. They seemed to suck the glowing liquid into themselves, vanishing or growing lighter as the liquid was pulled towards them. Eventually, all that was left was a single black spark. It hurt to look at, seeming to drink in the light around it. Professor Flitwick gently prodded it with the glowing mop handle, and both glow and spark vanished. Harry's mouth was slightly agape. Hermione, who had been secretly observing the two out of the corner of her eye was blind sided by a summoned cushion she had forgotten about at Harry's strange display of magic.

The tiny teacher nodded to himself and conjured two small glass pitchers, which he set on a table.

"Very nice. Now, again, but put the liquid into this pitcher, and the sparks into that one."

Harry nodded, looking at his fingers, and turned to the two pitchers.

"Lumos!"

This time, Harry was expecting the itches. He was not expecting them to race down his arm at nearly twice the speed, and then back up again. The candles, placed all around the room for evening classes, burst into light, startling more than one student into being accosted by flying cushions. Their flames burned white hot, and perfectly spherical. In a matter of seconds, the flames had eaten their way though the candles and winked out.

Professor Flitwick frowned to himself, and the charmed quill sped up, scattering ink droplets over the parchment behind him. He mentally reviewed what Albus had told him of Harry's unusual manifestation of the Lumos charm, and what he had seen so far. His face slowly broke into a grin.

"Once more Harry. With feeling! Isn't this exciting?"

Harry looked at his teacher, looked at a few of the students who were glaring at him, and nodded. Taking one last look around the room, and hoping that this time he would blind a few of the sheep that glared at his back, he raised his arm.

"Lumos!"

This time, there was no itches. There was a burning sensation, clawing up his arm. It was mercifully brief, but he clenched his eyes from the pain. There were several loud thumps, and several people screamed. There was the sound of Professor Flitwick calling for silence.

Harry opened his eyes. Everything looked a little grey, a little washed out. Professor Flitwick was stood in front of him, reaching out oddly with his hands, his eyes wide.

"Harry? Harry are you OK?"

"I'm fine professor. What happened?"

"Someone must have been distracted, watching you and not what they were aiming their Accio at. The castle's storm blinds have shut. Now can someone... someone other than Harry, please cast a Lumos? I seem to have lost my wand."

"What are you talking about professor? It's right here." Harry asked, confused. Everyone was reaching, groping for wands that were on tables mere inches from their fingers as though they couldn't see them.

There was a muttered "Lumos," and Hermione's wandtip lit up. She directed it around the classroom until several other students grabbed their wands and added their own lumos to the room. Harry was now distinctly worried.

With the help of Lavender's lighted wand, Flitwick took his from Harry's proffering hand, and twitched it upwards with a brief incantation of "Sol lie!". A ball of harsh blue light appeared hovering just below the ceiling and Harry hissed from the too bright light.

What was going on? What was everyone acting so strangely?

Several quite calls of "Nox" could be heard around the classroom, but Harry kept his eyes shut. The miniature sun that the charms professor had conjured was still there, bright enough to shine through his eyelids.

There were a few more muffled thumps, and the intensity of the light ratcheted up a notch. After a few seconds, Harry heard the voice of Professor Flitwick.

"Harry? Are you all right there?"

Harry forced his eyes open and looked down at his teacher. Immediately, they started to water and he was forced to squint. The light was nearly blinding. He heard Flitwick gasp, and then mutter something. The light dimmed, although it still seemed unnecessarily bright. He opened his eyes again to see Professor Flitwick stood on a pile of books and peering at his face intently. The charms professor had created what looked like a grey curtain around the two of them, cutting him off from the lights outside. After a few seconds, Harry opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but Flitwick forestalled him.

"Hermione, would you be able to run along to Professor McGonnagal's office and inform her that I need her here? She should be free right now."

The professor turned back to Harry and waved his wand, pulling a mirror from nowhere. Harry took it, confused and worried. He looked down at his reflection and gasped.

His pupils had changed. They were now slit vertically, and his irises had expanded to fill the entire of his visible eye. He looked like an unfortunate transfiguration accident, and suddenly understood why Professor McGonnagal had been sent for. He reminded himself of Hermione after the unfortunate polyjuice accident, just without all the extra hair.

"I think, Harry, that we are done practising Lumos for today."

Harry just nodded in shock and turned his gaze accusingly to his scared arm. He whimpered to himself as he looked at it. The scars had grown, and now covered a good inch more flesh than they had when he had entered the class. They now mapped out every vein in his arm until his elbow, and seemed to be creating a ring there. He didn't know why, or how, but had a feeling that it was Not Good.

\- III -

Dumbledore steepled his fingers and sighed, listening to Minerva's report. By the time she had got to the charms classroom, Harry had managed to rectify whatever had caused Hermione to burst into her room nearly hysterical. Apparently, Harry's plight had called up bad memories for the girl. Dumbledore didn't really see what he could do about it, and he told his second in command so.

"Nothing you can do? Albus, the boy transfigured his eyes. His _eyes_ Albus! With a lighting charm! That isn't normal, nor is it safe. Fillius was telling me that every spell he tried had a seemingly random effect, only loosely related to what he wanted to achieve at best! It's bad enough when he is casting the most basic of charms, but complex transfiguration, or hexes? No Albus. It would be dangerous for him, and for the other students. You need to do something. Teach him personally, why don't you?"

Dumbledore peered at her over his glasses. "The oaths on the goblet are binding, Minerva. I can teach him a little, only because I was planning on giving him private lessons at some point in the future anyway, but those lessons were not to be till his seventh year. As such, there is little I can do beyond providing a safe location to practice and an occasional nudge to certain library shelves. And Fillius can provide extra help because he will help any student with duelling who asks, and has been doing so for years. But taking over Harry's schooling is not something either of us is able to do. Me, because of oaths, and Fillius because of his own duties. Harry will simply have to work on his... unique condition, and we will have to be ready to correct any unusual effects that may manifest. Now I believe that he is in your class later today. You may give him a desk slightly away from the other students if you are worried Minerva, but right now I suspect that what the lad craves more than anything else is normalcy."

\- III -

Harry stepped into the transfiguration classroom feeling rather nervous. According to Hermione, the past two weeks had been taken up with Switching Spells, and it didn't look like they would be doing anything different this class looking at the diagram on the board. Switching Spells sounded like the kind of thing that could go horribly wrong given her explanation. Seeing as when Harry had practised the Lumos in the common room the previous evening his arm had ignited with bluebell flames, he was not looking forward to what could possibly happen in this class.

Professor McGonagall swept in with her characteristic stern features well in place, and began her lecture. Harry tried to keep up, but having missed the first two weeks quickly began to struggle. By the end of the twenty-minute talk, he had gathered that yes, switching spells were very dangerous if performed incorrectly, so like good students they would be practicing on animals before they moved anywhere close to humans. He also noticed that when the random assortment of items for today's class was handed out, the professor handed him only a single matchstick.

Once everyone else in the class was busy getting frustrated at plants and kitchen equipment, the Professor walked back to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, I have something I will need to talk to you about after the class. In preparation for this talk, I would like to go back to basics with you. The very basics. You remember how to turn a matchstick into a needle, do you not?"

Harry couldn't believe his ears. That was the first spell he had ever been taught in this class. She was treating him like an idiot, someone who couldn't do the most basic of spells!

Professor McGonnogal's face didn't change as she watched his reaction, but her eyes darted over him. Despite her age, she was well practiced in noticing details, as one must be when one's chief job is turning things into other things. She noticed how his hair shifted slightly as though in a light breeze, and how the nails on his hand had sharpened, ever so slightly. Almost like they were trying to become claws. "Mr Potter, I don't mean for this to be patronising. In fact, I believe I may have a way to help you with your latest problems. But for other people who have had similar 'accidents' in the past, starting from scratch helped them, and the earlier they did it, the better the results. Please, matchstick into needle."

Harry breathed out the anger and muttered the incantation. The itching spread down his arm and focused on the tip of his finger. He jabbed at the matchstick, and there was a needle on the table, but Professor McGonagall was shaking her head at him.

"Transfigure the matchstick Harry. You just vanished it and then… well, conjured a new needle from nothing. Think, focus. Wood turning into metal. The process is just as important as the goal."

Harry tried again, with a fresh matchstick. This time, it ignited, revealing a needle inside. The next one collapsed into dozens of tiny needles. By the time the class was over, he still had not turned a matchstick into a satisfactory result.

As the students filed out, Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk and motioned Harry to come up. She passed him a small box. "There are more matches in there. Practice until you get it perfect please. This may be worse than I thought. Now, the headmaster explained his theory as to what happened to you? I am now going to explain mine. Please, don't say anything, as anything I don't know I can't tell. But if you had happened to be attempting to emulate your father and his friends, I would have hoped you would have looked up how to do it properly. Doing such things badly can lead you to irreparably damaging your core. IF such a thing has happened, then practicing early level spells can help stabilise it once again. IF you choose not to practice… well there are a number of witches and wizards out there who can only cast a single spell, that of their transformation. Indeed, some say that Kneezles first came about from such a man. On other, unrelated topics, if I see an unusual, lost looking cat around the castle, I shall avoid notifying Filch, and I will let you know that we keep a register of student pets. You may want to have a friend register you, and that _not being registered_ Is a ministry offence. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry nodded, somewhat bemused. What was she getting at?

"Good. Then good day Mr. Potter. And I would like to remind you that the benefits do outstrip the risks, when done right."

Harry got up to leave, before turning back at the door, just in time to see a tabby cat with unusual markings around its eyes slink though a back door.

\- III -

The next week or two proceeded as normally as they could for Harry. He hid his scars whenever he could, letting them out only for spell work, and sleeping. He found they itched and tingled seemingly randomly around the castle when hidden. Some of the seventh years put their animosity of him on hold to try and get him to teach them wandless casting, but quickly returned to glares and rumour mongering when he explained that he couldn't help them.

He kept trying with turning a matchstick into a needle, along with doing whatever Flitwick asked of him. He'd gone through over a hundred of them, by Hemiones count. Originally, she'd been documenting the effects that his spells had, trying to find a pattern. She gave up around the fifty mark, after one matchstick turned into a caterpillar. After another week, when the chrysalis opened, revealing a very sharp butterfly, Harry gave up too. Flitwick's lessons however, did eventually bear fruit.

Harry found that eventually, he could force the magic into a familiar shape. Not quite perfect, and never quite the same, but he could reliably produce Lumos liquid on command, or create short lived hovering balls. The diminutive professor took this as a proof of concept, and started Harry on Accio.

This, Harry and the rest of the class agreed, seemed like a terrible idea, but Flitwick would have none of it. And so he practiced.

Harry called up gusts of wind, gave the cushion froggy legs, summoned a small green creature who's existence could be summed up with "I pass cushions", pulled the cushion towards him in straight lines, in bits that reassembled, and in bits that didn't.

He once created an effect that looked similar to teleportation, but on closer inspection turned out to have actually created an exact duplicate and thoroughly destroyed the original. The green cushion passer escaped into the corridor and couldn't be hunted down, and was last heard having a loud existential crisis in the Slytherin common room. Finally, Harry got an effect that was, mostly, similar to the standard summoning charm. The scars had grown up to nearly his shoulder, yet at the same time they had grown suppler. He could move his hand freely, without discomfort.

He could say one thing about his magic. It got concepts very quickly. It was narrowing down the possible applications of that concept to something repeatable and relatively safe that took most of his time. Unfortunately, his time was running out.

With the first task rapidly approaching, Harry realised something rather important. He didn't have time to care about what other people thought of him. It took him two or three times longer to perfect a charm than the rest of his classmates, and the classes weren't slowing down. He started begging off Astronomy with his status as champion, because he needed the sleep, and then begging off sleep because he needed to practice.

The Marauder's Map, and his invisibility cloak, were invaluable.

\- III -

Wow this one took a while. Like, well over a year.

In my defence, I moved to China, then back again. I went to university. I finished first year. But yeah. My bad.

I do want to keep writing this, and probably will, eventually. I also want to finish off my other projects. I might try a few one shots to get back into the swing of regular writing.

I'm also probably going to accelerate this. Pretty soon things should start to click into place for Harry, and when that happens I probably won't write out every failed spell he tries or the day to day life. Hopefully I'll cover the important bits


End file.
